


Found: One Stray, No Tags

by AshtailScribbles



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF, Sugar Pine 7 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Female Jack Pattillo, Finding Family, GTA AU, Gen, Shapeshifting, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-02-10 04:29:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12904077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshtailScribbles/pseuds/AshtailScribbles
Summary: Alfredo wants very few things in his life after his last gang falls apart. He wants a quiet life with his plants and his games. To make some connections. But Los Santos is a grinder, it takes people like him and twists them, bends them to its will.He makes a mistake. He crosses the wrong people and now he has to serve in the most feared crew in an effort to avoid a harsher punishment. But in a world where magic is in half the population and there's a family in the crew who holds his leash, maybe he can find a something a little better than debts paid.





	1. Chapter 1

Alfredo only takes the job because he's desperate for money. Los Santos was supposed to be a fresh start for him, a new beginning after his crew in Liberty City crumbled under the onslaught of the Rooster Syndicate. He'd fled to Los Santos with his rifle and a neat little nest egg, bought himself a passable apartment, and tried to make it clean, a life with no crime.

He was an idiot. That had lasted all of six months. Then, the nest egg was gone and Alfredo was facing starvation or picking up his rifle again. So he reached out, quietly, gently. It was hard to get gigs in a world where half the criminals had magic in some form and you didn't but eventually a crew decided he could be useful. And not just any crew. One of the Fakes.

_Everyone_ knew about the Fakes. The four crews that held Los Santos in an iron grip. FAHC, FakeHause, Fake Pine 7 and Fake Chop. He knew that the other three answered to FAHC and FAHC answered to the Rooster Syndicate. That alone should have warned him away from working with one of the Fake crews, but Alfredo had been in the life long enough to understand that it was just something that happened. Bigger, stronger crews pushed out old crews all the time, and the Rooster Syndicate was old, strong and made of mostly magical people. Alfredo's crew hadn't stood a chance.

Fake Chop used him mostly as over watch. It was simple. He sat up in a vantage point and provided cover for Aleks or James or whoever was doing the deals and they would pay him in cash and then he wouldn't hear from them until he was needed. It was steady work, a job or two a week, and they were generous enough. He wasn't part of the crew, just a well-paid contractor, but that suited Alfredo just fine.

Tonight's job though felt wrong. The whole thing had felt off. First off, he'd been allowed to Fake Chop's base for the first time. That alone had set off warning bells, which had only rung louder when he'd walked in, escorted by one of thier minions, only to find Aleks and James locked in a screaming match, Brett standing between them and looking absolutely and wholly done with the situation. 

Brett caught sight of him first and cleared his throat loudly and both Aleks and James subsided at his appearance, trading final hostile glares before James stomped away, embers falling from his hair and leaving burns in his wake. Brett rolled his eyes and scrubbed his face before pointing after his boss.

"I'm going to go calm him down before we need a new warehouse again. Alfredo, it's good to see you again. Good luck tonight, Aleks and Asher will fill you in." And with that his form blurred down into the large black wolf Alfredo had seen slinking around in the background of deals and padded off in the literal flaming wake of James.

Aleks took a minute to collect himself and Alfredo saw the ivy on the wall slowly become green again and Alfredo couldn't help but feel a tiny flare of jealousy. He'd long ago come to terms with the fact that he didn't have magic, but sometimes he couldn't help but get irked when others used thier powers. Alfredo had seen Aleks' control over plants twice before this, mostly when a cactus had come to life to pummel someone to death the one time Aleks had felt legitimately threatened.

"Follow me." Alfredo trotted after Aleks, noting the terseness of his voice and the set of his shoulders, as they made their way over to a white board that dominated most of one wall. 

"Twice a year, the Fakes play a little game. For a week, everyone tries to cuck everyone else. You're gonna help us out this time." There it was, that razor flash of teeth that Alfredo was used to seeing from the blonde. "Tonight, FAHC's very own midget is gonna be out trying to make a deal. We need you to fuck that shit up, anyway you can. Just, don't kill him, obviously. Ramsey still scares that shit out of me."

Alfredo's gut churned. Fucking up the deal of a member of FAHC sounded like a straight death wish, even at the behest of another Fake crew. Probably especially at the behest of another Fake crew. But Alfredo knew if he turned down this job then Fake Chop would probably refuse to give him work in the future. 

So, stomach churning and dread creeping up his spine, Alfredo agreed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The rooftop was cold. It was fall in Los Santos, but the air was unseasonably cool. Alfredo sighed and tried to burrow deeper into the hood of his black pullover. Why Dooley felt the need to have this meetup at the docks right near the water on a clouded night in the 40's was beyond him. Maybe he was just really, really dramatic.

The other party had shown up a few minutes before and settled onto the crates, a few duffle bags resting near thier feet. Drugs or money, he thought, since they weren't bulky enough to be weapons. Alfredo's attention was drawn at the low roar of an engine and he watched as a purple and orange(what kind of paint job was that?) Zentorno pulled up, the engine dying down to a rumbling purr before cutting off.

The man that climbed out was short, stocky and immediately identifiable as his target, Jeremy Dooley. Alfredo had a plan, of course, despite his persistent unease with the situation. Shoot the bags up, kill one or two of the other party and maybe put a bullet in Dooley's car. In the commotion he would sprint to the far side of the building he was on, shimmy down and keep to the shadows until he met up with Asher, his assigned getaway driver a few streets over. An unnamed minion was supposed to follow in his wake and leave Fake Chop's calling card so they could lay claim to disruption for the game.

Settling more firmly into his perch he readied his rifle and took off the safety. Below him the meetup had begun and he drew in a breath, steadied himself, and let off the first shot. It hit the car dead on, and Alfredo allowed himself a moment of pride as the vehicle immediately began to smoke. The people had ducked for cover, so Alfredo took the time to place a few shots more, one into each duffle bag was enough to shred the innards, sending white powder flying into the air.

No heads were visible, and his window was closing fast, so he placed his last few shots into the crates they'd been sitting on before, a little frisson of pleasure lancing through him when both shots elicited screams of pain. Perfect execution. He jumped up, slung his rifle over his shoulder and made his way to the far side of the building. Behind him was absolute chaos and he silently shimmied down the ladder into the dark alley. Christ, had he really pulled that off?

He was unwilling to relax until he was in Asher's car and peeling away, so with that thought in mind he started creeping through the alleyways, purposefully going slow and sticking to the shadows to try and throw off any pursuers.

"Meow!"

He jolted, nearly knocking over the trash can he was huddling behind, turning on his heel to look down. Sitting before him was a little ginger cat, piercing green eyes watching him.

"Shoo! Get out of here!" He hissed quietly. Any noise was dangerous and he was so goddamn close to the getaway car he couldn't have a little stray cat alerting people to his presence. He carefully kicked out and the cat when screeching away and Alfredo tucked himself further back out of view. He let five minutes pass before he unfolded himself, gazed out and then lit out across the road to the alley way where Asher's car was supposed to be waiting for him.

Operative words being "supposed to be".

There was no car there waiting for him. Instead, standing at the back of the alley was a hulking russet form and Alfredo's blood ran cold. That was a bear. It shouldn't be here. Bears don't live in the city. While his brain was short circuiting the bear rose to it's hind legs, roared and lashed out with one massive paw.

Alfredo's last thought was that at least "death by bear" was a good way to go.

~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~~*

Geoff sat comfortably in a chair next to the hospital bed, sleepy blue eyes locked on the form lying there. Geoff loved all of the gangs he'd brought up, but sometimes he hated them, especially when they pulled shit like this.

See, Geoff was smart. Sure it didn't seem like that sometimes but he was. He'd been in this game for a long, long time and he knew how to cultivate talents and whole crews into the best most successful operations and operatives they could be. Splitting off from the Syndicate with Burnie's blessing to take over a city on the other side of the country had been a wild and enjoyable ride. Ten years later he had a personal crew he could be proud of and three strong, loyal crews in the city.

But, see, the thing is, crews needed successes to gain confidence, to establish themselves. Jack had once compared the new crews to rescue dogs whose handlers who would lay in the rubble to give the dogs a successful find after a period of failures. It didn't matter that the successes were fabricated, it just mattered what that they'd happened. So twice a year he ran a little competition, set up a bunch of little meaningless deals and let the smaller three run rampant for the week. They would screw each other over to some extent, but the prize was always in wrecking the FAHC's deals and Geoff would affect annoyance and the prize was always a nice week away while B-team ran their territory for a week.

Contractors were not allowed. It was a strict rule Geoff had established early on, to prevent unfair advantages. Fake Chop knew this and they'd done it anyway, which meant Geoff was gonna have to devise some kind of punishment for them and now he had this kid on his hands as well. Fuck.

Michael had really done a number on the kid, obviously thinking he was a legitimate threat instead of just someone caught in the middle. His blow had broken the kid's ribs and tore open the skin and done a number to his arm as well. Caleb had been able to heal most of the wounds but he'd been sure to warn Geoff that the cuts on his chest would take time to mend fully and his ribs would be sore for a few weeks as well. Caleb's gift was strong, but not strong enough to mend mauling wounds entirely which, fair. So now the kid was laying there, out cold and Geoff was at a loss.

Yes, he probably hadn't known what he was getting into fully, but he'd still messed up a deal, minor as it had been. If Geoff let him go, it would set a precedent, but everyone else agreed the situation's resolution didn't require the kid's death. He had to find a happy medium. He needed to enforce his authority to the general population and his crews and it needed to put the fear of the FAHC in the kid without going overboard and coming off as a tyrant.

Sighing heavily he rose to his feet, groaning as his joints popped and creaked. Goddamn but he was getting old. Made him glad he'd given over the day to day running of the crew to Trevor. Scratching his cheek he resolved to have Gavin look into the situation a bit more and talk it out with Jack before he made a final decision about anything. 

Maybe something theatrical. He loved it when they got theatrical.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*

Alfredo came to awareness slowly, as if through sludge. Everything felt warm and slow and nothing hurt. Was he dead? Was this heaven? He slowly blinked his eyes open and they felt weighted, heavy.

"Oh, good! You're awake!" The voice startled him and his eyes shot open, his body jolting into an upright position. Or, it tried to anyway. Searing pain brought him back down instantly and his when he tried to reach up to hold his chest he could only move his hands a few inches before he encountered resistance.

Panic lanced through him as the final memories of his last time awake filtered through to him, consuming in him a suffocating wave, combining with the searing pain in his chest and arm. He thrashed, which only aggravated the pain and the piercing whine of noise filled the room. He missed the movement around him until one warm hand gripped his hair and forced him to look up.

"Relax." The single word was deep, accented, laced with command and Alfredo felt himself relax against his will, his whole body practically melting into the bed. He knew he should be afraid, but his body refused to respond and he decided that if he was going to be dead, he would be by now, and it was just so much easier to roll with it. 

The hand left his hair with a gentle pet and Alfredo took a minute before he managed to get his eyes to cooperate and take in the room around him. It wasn't a hospital room, but it was close. The walls were a warm cream and there were medical devices scattered about. A private hospital? No, that didn't make any sense, not really.

He hissed as ice seemed to spread from his elbow up and turned to see a man pull a syringe from an IV port in his elbow. His eyes followed his arm down to his wrists, unsettled to see them encased in leather padded restraints. That would explain why he couldn't move his arms up.

"Are you calm now? Do you need anything?"

His eyes sluggishly moved to the man standing by his bedside. He was young, blonde and warm looking, but easily identifiable on his inner wrist was the green rubber ducky in a crosshair. FAHC. He exhaled shakily, trailing off into a deep cough which caused his chest to sear again.

"Some water is probably a good start. We can go from there." A blue straw appeared in front of him and he eyed it warily. "It's not poisoned. No sense in healing your bear wounds only to kill you later." Alfredo had to concede that point and he leaned forward to take a few sips. Once he was finished he leaned back and looked at the man standing before him. 

"So, I'm Caleb and I've been taking care of you. What's the last thing you remember?"

Alfredo blinked, still feeling slow, but remembering all too vividly the last thing he remembered. "There was a bear."

Caleb nodded sagely. "That was Michael. He was Jeremy's support a few nights ago. He was tasked with stopping you before you could escape. He was a little too...enthusiastic in his approach. He shredded your left arm and the left and front of your chest. You recieved a concussion and a few other minor scrapes and bruises on the way to the ground. I healed the broken ulna and ribs and managed to knit together your skin. For the most part. You're in for a long few weeks. I've wrapped everything up and after you're allowed to be up and around I'll probably make you wear a sling."

Alfredo sat back heavily in his bed. Mauled by a shapechanger. And not just any shapechanger. Michael "Mogar" Jones, a member of the FAHC. And now he was lying tied down in a bed in what was probably a FAHC base, most likely awaiting his judgement.

"If you don't need anything for now, I'm going to recommend you sleep a little bit longer. The bosses want to see you in the morning." That inspired a little bit of fear, but at the same time pain and exhaustion and drugs tugged at him. 

"I'm good, thanks." He slurred, already drifting off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

"You weren't kidding. He really does look like me." 

The next time Alfredo woke up, it was much faster and less pleasant than the last time. Whatever pain medication he was on now was way shittier than what he'd been on previously and his chest and arm practically screamed at him, feeling like they were on fire. He couldn't help the whimpering groan that left him as his eyes blinked open.

"Easy kid. Deep breaths." Large weathered hands were on his shoulders, and he would be disturbed by the fact that he was shirtless later, and his eyes snapped to the face in front of him. With sleepy blue eyes and a neatly trimmed beard he wasn't immediately recognizable to Alfredo but he radiated power and confidence.

"Caleb took you off the good shit so we could have a talk. He's gonna dose you up nice and good once we're done." Alfredo gave a quiet huff in affirmation, his voice feeling like it was out of reach and he was too tired to try. The first set of hands withdrew as another pair came into view, holding the cup and straw from earlier. Alfredo leaned forward without prompting and sipped slowly. This person was tall, thin and had dark hair swept to the side. He radiated a different kind of power to the first man, distinctly magical, and the aura he put off was soft and relaxing.

Done drinking, Alfredo sank back into the bed, the restraints on his wrists jingling with his movements. The two men shared a telling look before they settled back in the chairs he hadn't noticed before, a serious countenance settling over them and the room, though the aura of the second man stayed warm and kept Alfredo feeling relaxed and at ease.

"Let's start simple and get some of the minutia out of the way. You're not gonna die, and we're not gonna torture you. Caleb's put too much work in piecing you back together over the last few days. I'm pretty sure if we undid all his work he'd throw an epic snit, and everyone knows you don't make medics mad." The second man's voice was smooth and higher than Alfredo would have expected. 

"Now that that's out of the way." The older man's voice was rougher and still higher than Alfredo would have guessed. "Can you guess where you are?" Alfredo knew of course, but it was a matter of getting his voice to cooperate.

"F-Fakes." He eventually forced out, but it was a mistake as his chest seized in a violent cough. His arms jerked against the restraints, shaking the bed and he was dimly aware of both men shooting to their feet as ragged coughing seized his body. Eventually he settled back, feeling exhausted and chest heaving, and then Caleb was there, gentle hands examining his injuries.

"No damage that I can see or feel. He shouldn't talk for a while though. I can get Matt in here to translate if you want. The restraints can come off too. He's obviously no danger and weak as a kitten besides." Deft hands made short work of the hospital restraints but all Alfredo could do was shift his bad arm closer to his abdomen before he ran out of energy. 

"I'm not going to call an end to the conversation but I am putting a time limit on it. No more than 15 minutes. He'll need a fresh IV and some stronger pain medicine by then." The two men agreed easily and Caleb nodded to the room before slipping out again.

Honestly, at this point, Alfredo wasn't certain that this wasn't some weird fever dream. He was sure he was going to wake up in some dingy interrogation room or maybe he was dead and this was some weird "what if" scenario his consciousness had made up to keep himself entertained in limbo.

"Hey kid! Focus on me." Alfredo snapped to at the sharp voice, eyes on the older man. "I'm gonna spell it out for you. You nod or shake or your head. Understood?" A nod.

"Good. Do you know who we are specifically?" He shook.

"I'm Geoff Ramsey, Fake Kingpin and this is Trevor, day-to-day Crew leader for the FAHC. And you, my little friend, disrupted a deal of ours on behalf of Fake Chop. Do you remember that?" Alfredo knew he should be feeling fear, but that feeling of warmth and relaxation had penetrated deep into his body, suppressing all his natural responses. Definitely magical, and probably emanating from Trevor, the second man.

With no other recourse, he nodded, dipping his head and trying to look appropriately contrite.

"Cute, but we're not done. My guess is they told you it was a game, that we wouldn't care?" He nodded. "My boys over there have always played fast and loose with my rules. So, yea, mitigating circumstances or whatever. You didn't know exactly what you were getting into, but the fact still stands that you stepped in on a deal you had no business stepping in on. You coulda hurt my boy, even. There has to be a punishment, y'know?"

Fear finally began to creep to the surface. He knew, knew he shouldn't have taken the job. Should have begged off, offered Aleks and James something in exchange for not doing it. Look where it got him. Lying in a bed in a FAHC base recovering from being mauled by a bear facing repercussions for his actions. All kinds of scenarios raced through his head, none of them pretty. Sure they'd promised not to torture or kill him, but that didn't exactly limit the ways they could punish him.

A hand threaded through his hair and he was blasted by a deep sense of calm, suppressing all the fear that had bubbled up. "Stop. Breath. Listen to what he has to say before you do anything else." That was Trevor and he was radiating the same deep sense of calm that now sank into Alfredo's bones. Well that settled it. Alfredo had only heard about the rare wielders of emotional manipulation magics and being on the receiving end of it now he could see why to they were spoken of with fear and reverence in equal measure.

Trevor relinquished his grip but the calm remained as he returned to his seat. "He's pretty handy, right?" Geoff's voice was a little smug and Alfredo couldn't even find it in himself to answer. Trevor's presence was like a sedative and if it weren't for the pain of his injuries he'd be asleep by now. "I'm gonna speed this up because you're about as useful to me as a box of rocks right now. The total for the drugs you destroyed was a quarter of a million. Another hundred thousand for Jeremy's car, which was destroyed. I'm going to assume you don't have that lying around somewhere?"

He shook his head. He had an idea he knew where this was going.

"Well then, that settles it. Until I'm done with you, you belong to me and Trevor. And we say when we're done with you. You understand?" It was ominous, of course. Not even his magic-addled brain could miss the unsubtle "you belong to" rather than "you work for" in Geoff's final proclamation. He also knew he had no choice. He didn't have the money to replace the drugs and repair the car. Fake Chop's jobs had been worth a couple thousand a piece, enough to keep him living reasonably comfortably and save a little bit for emergencies, but nowhere near what he owed. 

Alfredo bit his lip and steeled himself before he nodded. He didn't even want to contemplate what the response would be if he tried to turn him down.

Geoff's face split in a beatific smile and a spike of triumph and contentment lanced through the room. Alfredo really didn't like how tuned in he was to Trevor. It was really creepy to be able to get the emotional temperature of someone without having magic of his own, but Trevor was broadcasting so much in an effort to keep Alfredo subdued. 

"Well, now that that's all settled I'll let Caleb at you. I need to go take care of my wayward boys across town. Trevor will be by to fill you in on your new responsibilities once Caleb thinks you're good for it." They rose up in tandem and left the room, heads together in conversation. Caleb swept in after them, hands already glowing green. He changed out Alfredo's IV, gave him some more water and changed the bandages for fresh clean ones. 

"You look pretty good overall. I'm gonna say you need to stay for another two or three days before I'm comfortable releasing you. We can try you on some soft foods tomorrow though, so that's something to look forward to." Caleb's voice was soft and Alfredo drifted on it. Once he was comfortable Caleb injected something into the IV line and Alfredo was floating, far far away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Three days later and Caleb pronounced Alfredo strong enough to be discharged the next day. He been moved back up to soft solid, if somewhat bland, foods and been allowed to walk the halls of the facility with the assistance of a long-haired man named Matt. He still struggled with talking and coughing sucked, a lot, but overall he was doing fairly well for being less than a week out from being mauled by a bear.

So it was with little surprise that night, as he was sitting up and pushing jello around with his good hand, that the disturbingly familiar aura of Trevor entered his awareness. His appetite abandoned him in that moment and the door opened, revealing Trevor dressed in pinstripe pants and vest, white sleeves ruled up to his elbows. He practically radiated excitement and he had a manilla envelope in his hands.

"You're awake. Good. I'm on a time crunch, so let's get started." He pulled up a chair close to Alfredo and his emotions washed over him like a tidal wave, making him nauseous since they were so at war with Alfredo's own feelings. He hated this. Trevor made him sick with his magic, uncomfortable in his own skin. Was Trevor just so strong that he couldn't help but broadcast to those around them? Was Alfredo just sensitive to this kind of magic? 

"Hey, are you listening to me?" Alfredo cut his gaze back, face flushing as Trevor's face creased in a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "Listen I'm gonna make this fast so just try to pay attention for the next few minutes okay?" He nodded, steeling himself to paying attention despite the buffeting emotions. Trevor spent a second staring at him, something dark in his gaze before he grunted and pointed to a few of the papers sitting on the tray next to his abandoned jello.

"There's not a lot you can do for the first few weeks, so you'll mostly be running comms and watching feeds. After Caleb clears you for action again you'll run errands, drive and provide over watch on deals. You won't be heisting with us." That got a sigh of relief. Alfredo had absolutely no interest in heisting, thank you very much, especially the special brand of chaos that was a FAHC heist.

Trevor was fiddling with a jewelry box and he pulled out something black with a little green pendent. "Give me your good hand." He ordered and Alfredo did so cautiously. Strong fingers grasped his arm and moved it closer and then Alfredo felt cool leather encircle his wrist. Deft fingers made quick work of the buckle and then a tiny padlock, locking it in place. From the little o-ring hung the black and green pendant that proudly displayed the FAHC's rubber ducky emblem. "We've already locked down your apartment and moved everything you'll need to the penthouse. Someone-"

Alfredo jolted in place. "What did you do to my apartment?!" His voice scraped in his throat and he felt a flash of genuine anger. His apartment was his. Keeping it was the whole reason he was back in the game to begin with. It was his safe spot. His plants, his sketchbooks and his game collection were all in there.

Trevor's hand struck out, snake-like, and grabbed his chin, ignoring Alfredo's gasp as fingers dug into healing scrape marks. "Part of me wants to write it off as you being in pain at the time, so I'll say it again. You belong to the crew now. You belong to Geoff and I. This?" He held up Alfredo's arm so he could see the trinket in his periphery. "This means you're _ours._ You're ours until we decide otherwise. If we say jump, you ask how high. If I say entertain the boys, you keep them entertained, no matter what you need to do. Your usefulness extends to what we can get you do for us and nothing more. Do you understand me? Say it now. Say 'I understand, Trevor.' so I know you do." 

Trevor's aura was dark, oppressive and made Alfredo's skin crawl as he fought to get his voice to work. "I understand, Trevor. I get it. I'm sorry." His voice quivered in his throat, and he sounded weak, scared to even his own ears. Trevor kept him pinned with his glare for a minute longer and it felt like it was an eternity before the hand gripping his chin turned gentle, thumb smoothing over the scratches he'd been pressing into seconds before. The broadcast of emotions turned positive again, but it was chilled and he wanted to shrink back but didn't dare, not when Trevor's gaze was still dark, dangerous.

Finally, finally Trevor let his face go, settling back into his chair and Alfredo brought his arm close to his chest. "Now as I was saying. Everything you need will be at the base. When you get there tomorrow, you go to Geoff. He's going to introduce you to everyone so there's no more accidents. He'll decide what you're going to do after that. Understand?"

Alfredo started to nod, but when Trevor made an annoyed sound he stopped. "I understand." He whispered and Trevor pulsed with approval.

"Good. Your escort will be here at 10am. I need to go now." Trevor didn't even bother with a proper goodbye, instead grabbing up the papers and the now empty jewelry box, leaving Alfredo alone in the room. He didn't relax until the other man's aura was out of range to be felt before he crumpled in on himself. 

He would never admit to the tears that stained the bandages on his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be one more update before I take a break for Christmas, probably on the 23rd. Normal posting should resume around the 3-5th, depending on work. 
> 
> Thanks so much for all the love this story is getting! It means the world to me.

At ten to ten the next morning, just as the orderly was settling Alfredo's arm in a sling, there was a knock. "Come in." He called out and a there was a brief hesitance before it opened to reveal a runty looking kid in slacks and a polo. 

"I'm your escort this morning, Mr. Diaz. Are you ready to go?" Alfredo looked towards his orderly who nodded.

"You're as good as you're going to be, dude. I've put the pain killers and antibiotics in your pack. Caleb will be by nightly for the next week for some spot healing." He turned towards the escort and handed him a manilla envelope. "These are his care instructions. They're to go straight to Mr. Ramsey or Ms. Pattillo, whichever you see first." The escort nodded, though Alfredo swore he saw his face crease in annoyance for a minute before it smoothed back out into a mask of professionalism. 

"Of course. Now, right this way Mr. Diaz. The boss is expecting us by ten-thirty and there's a little backed up traffic on our route." Alfredo grabbed his little pack of medical supplies and medications and followed the escort out of the facility to a sleek black SUV. It took a little bit of doing, and the escort was no help, but eventually he made it into the SUV and settled himself in.

He was seldom on this side of the city, so he tried to enjoy the sights of it, even as nerves built in his gut. While he knew he wasn't being driven towards his death, he was still understandably nervous. He was restricted in his activities for the next week, Caleb had said as much, but as soon as his spot healing was done, who knew what kinds of things they'd make him do.

"We're here, Mr. Diaz. You'll go in the front and the building secretary will let you up. I need to get the car put away and find someone to hand these documents off to." Alfredo sighed and grabbed his pack, shimmying out of the vehicle carefully. He hissed as his chest twisted a little. God this was so annoying. He felt like a kid waiting for his first day at a new school. Except with a lot more guns and explosions. 

The lobby of the building was all sleek glass and silver metal and he felt out of place in his scrubs and looking beat up. Luckily, the front desk was easy to find and the secretary was warm and welcoming. She compared his face against an image one of the bosses had given her and then handed him a paper badge. It would get him in the penthouse elevator today, until a more permanent solution was settled upon.

And at last he was on his way up, the glass elevator giving him a fairly spectacular view of the city. Ten floors, twenty, up and and up and up until it dinged on the 70th floor. The penthouse. He swiped the badge and the elevator slid open, revealing a hallway. A very nice hallway. Soft cream carpets and dark wood paneling and various plants lent it a very nice look, and one would never guess that it was the entryway to the home of one of the most feared crews in the states. Scattered about were pairs of shoes and jackets, little touches that made it look lived in.

"You must be Alfredo!" He would never admit the noise that left him as he startled at the new voice and his head whipped in the direction of the voice. The woman the voice belonged to was reasonably tall, curvy, with long red locks falling around her shoulders. It took his brain a minute to put a name to a face.

Jack Pattillo, second in command and ace pilot of the FAHC crew. 

"No need to be scared." At Alfredo's incredulous look she chuckled a little. "Well, not so scared anyway. Geoff had to deal with a last minute problem, so I'll be handling introductions today. Come on in for now. I just put breakfast on the table and the others should be waking up shortly." She turned around and started in, obviously expecting Alfredo to follow.

So follow he did. He paused just long enough to toe off the sandals the hospital had given him and then padded in after her. The penthouse was just as neat and modern as the hallway, but definitely looked lived in. It was open and bright, the carpet underfoot sinfully soft. Scattered around were books and games and hoodies and other odds and ends. It was a home. Did they all live here?

"It's nice, isn't it? Took a while to get everything right but we make it work." He nodded and followed her into what he guessed was a dining room. The table was dark wood and practically groaning under the weight of all the food that was on it. Eggs, bacon, toast, waffles and more. At his surprised look Jack laughed, the sound echoing in the bright room like bells.

"Geoff invited B-Team over as well, so you can meet everyone in one swoop. Even without them though the lads eat enough for double the people and Ryan's no slouch either." She settled herself comfortably at a seat to the left of the head chair and gestured to the chair next to her. "Help yourself while it's fresh and the hoard hasn't gotten to it."

He placed his bag under the chair and grabbed the plate. He was still on soft solids, would be for another week thanks to the combination of injuries and medications, but in this case he wasn't limited overmuch in his options. A piece of the lighter toasted bread with butter, a scoop of eggs and a smaller waffle drenched in syrup were placed onto his plate. He deliberated over a few other things before deciding against them. No sense in eating himself sick. 

"You don't want anymore?" Alfredo shook his head. Even without his restricted choices, his appetite had always been weird when he was on anything stronger than tylenol. Instead of pushing it, as he feared she would, Jack merely smiled at him gently and dished her own plate. They ate in surprisingly comfortable silence, and while it didn't completely do away with his apprehension, it was nice. 

Slowly, people began to filter in through the door. Most only spared him a glance before descending on the food and some not even that. By the time the table was full, lacking only Geoff and Trevor, Alfredo had been coaxed into a cup of tea by Jack and was watching as everyone slowly came alive. Conversation flickered to life around the table, never breaking a quiet murmur but there was a feeling of burgeoning chaos in the room, like they were just waiting for the thing that would set them off.

Finally, as most people were finishing eating, Jack sat forward in her chair. Instantly everyone's attention was on her and, by default, him as well. "So, as everyone knows, we've procured ourselves someone for the crew." That was...a nice way for putting it. "Everyone, this is Alfredo. Once he's healed up, he'll be driving and sniping for us, as well as some day to day errands." The table murmured greetings and Alfredo nodded, trying to look more confident than he felt.

"Alfredo, going around the table starting next you is Matt, Lindsay, Mica, Andy, Larry, Michael, Gavin, Jeremy and Ryan. You've met Geoff, Trevor and Caleb already. Matt, Mica, Andy and Larry are B-Team. Lindsay runs B-Team and they handle the minions, security and minor deals." He waved with his good arm and got assorted waves and grins back. 

"Jeremy, Michael and Gavin do their own thing outside of heists, and they handle a lot of the mid-teir and high-end deals, especially with our subordinate crews. Ryan handles information and day-to-day enforcement." Alfredo figured he also handled gathering that information, using whatever means required but he wasn't stupid enough to do more than think that. 

"Ryan's requested your help starting next week. You'll be helping me in the meantime, and we'll use that time to get you an ID for the building and get you geared up." As Jack was talking the others were leaving. Michael, Gavin and Jeremy hovered for a bit before Jack sent them a sharp look and they scuttled, all without saying anything. Ryan leveled him with a blue gaze, black hair cascading around his shoulders.

And then he smiled.

Alfredo startled again in his chair and Ryan's gaze turned amused and warm. This was the Vagabond. Why was he smiling at him?! Ryan rose from the table and started gathering up the dishes. "I'll handle this. You look exhausted. You should rest while you can. The Lads are...excited you're here and they won't be so easily cowed this afternoon." The man set about his work with a contented easiness and Jack seemed to agree with his sentiment because she grabbed his bag and began to usher him out of the dining hall.

"Caleb warned us you'll be easily tired for the first week, so this week is gonna be nice and easy. And he's right. I love those boys but they're not gonna be content until they've cornered you for a while, so the more rested you are the better." Cornered him? Oh he didn't like the sound of that really, but he doubted there was much he could do.

The hall split off in a couple directions. "Down the left and right halls are the bedrooms. You'll be on the same sides as the Lads, since it's the larger one. Down the center hall is the office, the planning room and a small armory. We own this entire building. On the floor below us is the gym and the entertainment area. Your pass will get you there as well, so feel free to come and go in your free time."

Her hand was gentle but firm on his back. They passed three doors, two across from each other and one by itself. Each had a sign painted on it, an emblem. There was the bear on one door and across from that the door was painted with a golden eagle. Down the hall a pretty decent way, almost startlingly so, was a door painted with a monster truck. The door across from the monster truck was blank but there they stopped. 

"You'll need to pick an emblem eventually, but this is your room. There's some clothes in the en suite if you need them. Someone will wake you when they want you." Here she smiled, and it filled him with a lot of warmth as she handed him his pack. "I know there were some...concerns about your apartment, but I think you'll like this." She patted his shoulder and wandered off out of sight.

Alfredo didn't move at first, almost afraid to. What was he going to find behind the door? There was really only one way to find out, and he could already feel tiredness dragging at his body. He just wanted to lie down somewhere and sleep it off. He was due another dose of medication as well. Steeling himself, he opened the door and stepped in.

He stopped in surprise. The room was...nicer than he expected? He had been expecting something spartan, a place they would have him close at hand for when they needed him, but he hadn't expected them to do much beyond provide him a place.

The floor had that same sinfully soft carpet as the hallways in a soft slate gray and there were touches of seafoam and grass green and white in the bedding and the couch. It was bright and warm and he felt...not safe, because he didn't think he could ever feel safe this deep in enemy territory but, settled maybe? Less like he was under the gun and more like he was protected enough for the moment to wind down.

He looked around a little more, trying to get the lay of the land. His plants were here! Settled around the room his lovingly cultivated ivies and ferns were vibrant splashes of color, his little cactus sat on the bedside table and his succulents were in pride of place next to a sturdy looking desk where sat his laptop and the unmistakable shapes of his sketchbooks. There was a reasonably sized TV across from the couch and his game collection was neatly shelved. 

It was all his stuff. Everything that had made his apartment home was here. Had they done this? Why? To make him feel welcome? Or to lure him into a false sense of security? Were they playing a long con here? Make him feel welcome, like he was part of the crew, one of them? What would happen then? Would Geoff call his debt paid and he'd find himself out on his own again, bereft of the people he had to come to-what? Protect? Call his own? Love? The trinket on his wrist tinkled as he tugged at his hair angrily. He pulled his arm down to look at his wrist and disgust, hot and suffocating, pooled in his chest. Collared. Like a fucking dog. This had to be a mockery of their tattoos, letting everyone know who owned him now, but making it obvious it was only temporary.

He groaned aloud and fished into his pack for his medicine and a bottle of water, with a handy flip cap for one-handed use, and he took his dose and growled softly to himself. He was so tired, and his chest was beginning to throb in time with his heartbeat. The bed looked amazing, huge and soft, with plenty of pillows. It was obviously going for welcoming, but all it did was cause Alfredo's head to churn with distrust. He stood there for a minute, oscillating between heading for the bed or the couch or even the floor but eventually exhaustion and pain and medication won out and he trudged towards the bed. He peeled back the covers and slid underneath, an involuntary happy sigh leaving him as he was cradled by plush blankets

He'd done this before, in the time before he clawed his way up the ranks of IGN. Been at the mercy of someone stronger than him, in a higher position of power than him. It was simple, when it boiled down to it. Keep his responses to "yes sir" and "no sir", eyes down, prepared to roll over and show his belly if it made his life easier, kept him out of danger. Back then it had been a matter of getting fed, of keeping himself out of the basement or the ring when the other kids couldn't or wouldn't cooperate. Now it was a matter of keeping himself alive, but the principal was the same. He could do this, just had to find that frame of mind again.

It took some doing to get comfortable, to get the disgusting amount of pillows present to cradle his injuries comfortably but soon, he was drifting off to sleep, his mind still a jumble and his gut still churning, but medicine and exhaustion won out in the end.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays everyone!

Alfredo woke to the sound of knocking on his door. He groaned loudly and was half-tempted to burrow into the nest he'd made for himself but the knocking was becoming insistent.

"Come in." He called reluctantly, knowing he would need a few minutes to rouse himself from his bed. The door swung open to reveal three heads who grinned and let themselves into his room. The first was tall and blonde and smiling, dressed in a pressed shirt and slacks, golden sunglasses perched amongst his hair. The second had curly red hair and freckles, his face creased in a mixture of a grin and put on annoyance. The last was shorter than the other two, broad in the shoulders and bearded, his hair a vibrant blue.

The Lads. He knew of them course, just from his knowledge of the city and his dealings with Fake Chop. The blonde was Gavin Free, the Golden Boy, who could, and often did, talk his way in and out of deals and predicaments all the time. The redhead was obviously Michael Jones, Mogar, the crew's demolition expert and the reason his chest currently looked like ribbons. The last he easily recognized as Jeremy Dooley, Rimmy Tim, the crew's ground getaway driver, mechanic and all around weapons expert.

"Look who's actually awake. Fucking finally." The Michael grunted and Gavin spared him an aghast look, a sound not unlike a bird's cry leaving him as he flailed his arms.

"But Michael! He's hurt, of course he's been sleeping. You broke him!"

"I didn't break him you asshole! Look, he's fine!"

Of course, that started a squabbling match and they wrestled each other out of the room, leaving Alfredo sitting up in his bed alone with Jeremy hovering in the door. The smaller man was grinning softly, a look of fond exasperation on his face before he turned back around to face Alfredo.

"Don't worry, they do that." Alfredo nodded and turned his legs around, planting his feet on the ground. His head spun a little and he braced himself but he flinched when a big calloused hand appeared in his field of view. While he wasn't looking, Jeremy had obviously moved further into his room. "Need a hand?" Alfredo really wanted to say no but his head felt like it was filled with down from the medicine and sleep. He reached out with his good hand and Jeremy gently, but firmly, pulled him to his feet, steadying him when he wobbled. "There ya go! The stuff Caleb gives out for bad wounds is a dozy."

"Thank you, sir." The response was automatic, his voice rough and small, and Jeremy's face did something complicated, something upset and horrified before it smoothed out into a soft smile, his face gentle.

"You-uh you don't have to call me that, seriously. I'd actually prefer if you didn't." Alfredo frowned heavily. Wouldn't the other man want him to defer to him, especially considering that, less than a week ago Alfredo had a sniper rifle on him.

Jeremy saw that he was getting nowhere with his request right now and he sighed softly, throwing his hands up. The sudden move startled Alfredo but he managed to suppress his instinctual flinch. 

"Well, all three of us were supposed to give you a full tour of the base and answer any questions you had but since Michael and Gavin have fucked off to who knows where I guess it's just the two of us."

Alfredo shrugged best as he could with one arm and nodded easily, keeping his mouth firmly shut. Jeremy sighed and shook his head but didn't say anything in response to it, instead waving Alfredo out of the room.

Alfredo trailed after Jeremy as the man gave him the detailed tour of the floor, content to listen to him chatter away and absorb the information he would need to be able to navigate the base and be effective. He might as well do a good job as long as he was here. This floor of the base was almost all residential, except for the center hall which was the office and meeting rooms that Jack had pointed out earlier. Jeremy showed him inside each one and Alfredo had to admit that the FAHC had a pretty good setup, even better than IGN's had been, filled with modern touches but classy and obviously well used. He was also a little jealous of the light table in the main planning room.

"Have you eaten since breakfast?" Alfredo turned his attention to Jeremy and tilted his head, making a soft questioning noise and Jeremy just sighed again, rolling his eyes with feeling. "You really don't talk a lot, do you? Gavin's gonna have a field day trying. He didn't stop bothering Ryan until he consistently used full sentences all the time."

Alfredo just gazed back placidly, waiting to see what was next, having settled fully back into the old mindset of quiet obedience. His silence obviously unnerved the other man, but seemed to be more a cause for exasperation than anything else. 

"Right, kitchen it is, I guess." He grumbled, leading the way to the kitchen from earlier. He rifled through the cabinets for a moment before he emerged with a triumphant "aha!" and protein bar clutched in his hand. He opened it and handed it to Alfredo, watching to make sure he had started to eat it before he continued on.

"I'll show you downstairs next. It's where we spend most of our time anyway, outside of planning and sleeping." Jeremy led him out the door and into the elevator, slipping a badge from his pocket through the scanner before jabbing a button and leaning against the elevator, regarding Alfredo with a speculative eye.

"You know, that was some pretty good sniping. I was impressed after the fact, expect for my car. Why the car man?" Alfredo shuffled his feet a little, settling for a one armed shrug and a bashful smile. Jeremy was dangerous, but not in the way that Alfredo had first assumed. Sure, he was dangerous physically, and he had his suspicions that he possessed some form of magicality, as most of the crew seemed to, but Jeremy was dangerous for a different reason altogether.

He was smart. Not just book smart or even street smart, but people smart. Alfredo felt open, exposed when he was alone with Jeremy, like the other man could read him without even trying. Alfredo had a vested interest in making sure that no one could dig into his past, into his secrets. His reflexive slide back into the mindset from his youth in an instinctual effort to make this whole thing easier on him had put blood in the water, and Jeremy was a very, very hungry shark.

Seeing no other answer forthcoming, Jeremy settled for getting Alfredo to give him something other than a blank face, considering his smile an early win. The ride was short, just long enough for both men to contemplate the other man in front of them before the door was dinging and they were stepping out into another hall.

This one had smooth wooden floors and two doors next to each other, one marked with what looked like a dumbbell from an old cartoon and the other a film reel. 

"Gavin insisted on marking the doors so we could find everything. Michael thinks he did it so he could find the movie room while he was drunk." Alfredo filed the little tidbit of information away as he was drawn to follow the other man into the door marked with the dumbbell. 

Behind the door was a sprawling gym, well equipped with everything anyone would need in order to exercise any way they may want to. There was a series of doors on the far wall and Jeremy pointed them out, having seen where Alfredo's gaze was drawn.

"Two of these doors lead to changing rooms. One leads to the sauna and the furthest one leads to the pool. This room takes up most of the floor, about two thirds of it if I remember Jack correctly. The rest is the entertainment room, through the other door. Come on, might as well come see it. It's where we spend most nights."

Alfredo just followed behind Jeremy, still cataloguing everything around him. The other door led them through a kind of winding hall before opening into a large room. The walls were covered in some soft, dark material and scattered around were massive couches and giant beanbags, pillows and blankets thrown about haphazardly. Against one wall was a bar and several cabinets and against another stood a large TV, bigger than Alfredo had ever seen outside of a stadium or movie theatre.

"So that's where they went." Jeremy's quiet exclamation drew Alfredo's attention to one of the couches tucked into the corner. Gavin and Michael were there, Gavin curled up on Michael's chest, both snoring away, a small ginger cat balanced on Gavin's back, watching them with quiet green eyes.

Alfredo couldn't help but think he'd seen that cat before, but his more pressing concern, or rather interest, was the casual intimacy on display on the couch. The cat had it's legs stretched out to touch the back of Gavin's neck while Michael had his hand in Gavin's back pocket, the brit's hands both knotted in Michael's curls. It wasn't unheard of for groups of magicals to form tight-knit groups, especially groups with multiple shapechangers or powerful magicals. Most just considered it a form of magical imperative, a drive they felt and sated with those they brought around them, magical or otherwise.

Alfredo had seen it before, in IGN, but he'd never been a part of it. He'd been too afraid to let himself let down his guard, to let others see him so vulnerable. Besides, as a sniper, and a non-magical one at that, he worked alone more times than not and so was never close to a group long enough to be drawn into their orbit. 

Part of him longed to join them on the couch, to be drawn into the press of bodies, to have a soft hand in his hair and legs twined with his own. Soft, easy affection without the pressure of a relationship. A much larger, louder part of him though balked. It whispered in his ear, oily slick, that he was nothing to them, that he would never have what they had. It taunted him with images of faceless people discovering his part, his scars, driving him away or worse, making him into what he used to be.

"You going to be ok on your own for a while? Dinner's not until seven tonight and I could use a nap." Jeremy's voice snapped Alfredo of his spiral and he saw the younger man looking up at him, his body angled towards him but open and relaxed. Alfredo simply nodded and Jeremy spared him a beaming grin before he trudged over to the couch, toeing off his shoes along the way. There was a little grumbling as they arranged themselves to make room on the couch for him, but eventually they all settled into quiet.

Alfredo watched them a few minutes more before he left. His paper badge should be able to get him back up and then he would retire to his room again. Maybe he'd spend some time with his plants. After all, they liked him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

For the second time that night, Alfredo was drawn out of his thoughts by a knock on his door. He placed his pencil down, closing his sketchbook and pushing it away. He'd tended to his plants for a while and then settled to sketching with the tv on in the background. 

"Come in!" He called and the door opened. It was Jack, smiling softly in that way of hers and Alfredo forced his best smile.

"Wondered where I'd find you. Jeremy told me he gave you the tour earlier. Do you feel like you know your way around now?" 

"Yes, ma'am. I should be okay." Jack was less vocal in her displeasure of his response, but he could see something dark pass over her face before it was artfully covered.

"Well good. Come on then. Dinner's ready and then we're having movie night. Tomorrow we'll be getting you started on some easy stuff, but getting you started none the less."

Alfredo nodded and rose up, following Jack out and closing his door behind him. 

"We don't always eat dinner together, we usually only manage meals together a couple times a week, but we wanted to do breakfast this morning for introductions and Geoffrey demanded we do dinner as well so he could get a chance to talk to you a bit." That caused some nerves to roll in his gut, but not as many as he would have thought. After all, Geoff had been straightforward with what he wanted from Alfredo and he felt he knew where he stood with the Kingpin.

The table was full of people again, but B-Team was absent save for Lindsay who was sitting next to Michael and deep in conversation with Ryan. Geoff was sitting at the head of the long table and Jack settled into the vacant chair at his right, the chair on his left occupied by Trevor, who was gazing at Alfredo intently, something bright and almost ernest in his eyes, though Alfredo was unspeakably grateful when he wasn't blasted full force with Trevor's aura this time.

The only spare spots seemed to be between Trevor and Ryan or between Jack and Jeremy and his choice was easy enough, settling himself into the second spot, ignoring the flash of hurt that crossed Trevor's face and the quiet acceptance on Ryan's. Dinner was loud, happy and the chatter of everyone else more than made up for Alfredo's silence. Jack had placed a plate in front of him of mashed potatoes and small cut meat and carrots, well within his restrictions and he thanked her quietly. Jeremy kept his glass full of water and Alfredo ate slowly, methodically.

Geoff tried to engage him in conversation twice over the course of the meal but all he recieved was short answers. "Yes, sir" and "No, sir" or bare sentences. Finally Geoff gave an exasperated groan and threw his hands up, opening his mouth and drawing up into a shout. Alfredo braced himself before twin voices boomed across the table.

"Geoff!" It was Jack and, surprisingly Ryan, who both eyed him for a minute before Geoff deflated with a grumble and he leant forward, resting his elbow near his plate and point at Alfredo empathetically. "Listen to me kid. None of this "Sir" shit. I'm not that old. If you have to, and I mean only if you absolutely have to, you can call me "Boss" but I would prefer literally anything else. Ok?" He voice trailed off at the end, into something easy, almost gentle.

Unsure what to do with the sudden backup or the 180 the boss had done he simply nodded, but Geoff seemed willing to roll with it for the time being. The rest of the meal was easy, but Alfredo was aware of Gavin and Trevor both watching him. After the food and dishes had been cleared away, Alfredo found himself herded down to the movie room. Everyone pulled beanbags and blankets and massive ottomans over and clambered in, situating limbs and getting comfortable with drinks and snacks and alcohol. Alfredo looked around until he found another beanbag off to the side. It was large and green, soft looking.

He went over to it, saw that it was off to the side too much to be able to comfortably see even that massive screen they owned and he grabbed it in his good hand, slowly dragging it over. He felt watched, and he knew the distance he left between their nest and his bag was conspicuous, but no one verbally called him out. Most looked upset but resigned, but Ryan looked on him with understanding and Jeremy with interest, as if he was cataloging the action.

The bean bag ended up being disgustingly comfortable once paired with one of the spare blankets Ryan gave him on his way to grab a diet coke, whispering about the chill the room sometimes got and he burrowed under it. The movie that played was one he hadn't seen before but one he wasn't interested in honestly, so he took the opportunity of the dark room to observe the crew.

Geoff was sitting in a recliner with a cup of tea in his hand and Trevor sat on the ground hin front of him, wrapped in a blanket and seemingly more absorbed in the tattooed hand in his hair than the movie. Jeremy had sprawled himself in Trevor's lap, legs kicked out and propped on a pillow as he practically swam in a hoodie that was obviously not his own. Lindsay, Michael, Gavin and Jack were a mess of limbs on the couch-ottoman hybrid, buried under blankets and amass of snacks and drink bottles. Ryan had chosen a beanbag much like Alfredo's own and he was sitting in front of the couch while Jack braided his hair and combed it out over and over again.

Eventually someones phone went off and, while the silence was uninterrupted save for Jack's quiet voice, their attention was on her until she hung up. "Alfredo, Caleb is waiting for you upstairs." Alfredo untangled himself from the blanket and thanked her quietly as he started dragging his bag back to where he found it.

"Leave it. You'll want it when you come back." Trevor's voice was soft and placid, lulled by Geoff's petting, but clear enough in the room. Alfredo frowned heavily, as he had no intention of returning to the theatre room after Caleb was done with him, but unwilling to say so aloud. It was, all in all, a minor rebellion all things considered, but he left the bag as it was and instead just left the theatre room.

Caleb was waiting for him in the main room and they greeted each other warmly before Alfredo lead him to his room. He liked Caleb, when he considered everything. He was bright and gentle and funny and Alfredo felt at ease in the company of the healer. In the room Caleb made quick work of unwrapping the bandages and then he was pressing glowing green hands to Alfredo's shoulders.

There was no conversation as Caleb worked. Even a healer as strong as Caleb need to focus so he could direct the magic at the wounds, or the healing magic would go wild and heal anything it perceived as wrong. Caleb never mentioned the latticework of old wounds, never offered to heal them and for the Alfredo was thankful. He was so used to exclamations of horror and dismay when people saw the old wounds, so to have no attention drawn to them was relieving.

Eventually Caleb was done and he rewrapped the wounds, watched Alfredo take his next round of medications and then bid him good night. Alfredo got into his pajamas and climbed into the bed, getting himself comfortable again.

He was asleep between one breath and the next.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! This story will be finished, so here's the next chapter. Sorry if it seems a little meandering, it's a lot of thinking and passing time.

"They're going to scar, aren't they?"

Caleb lifted his hands off of Alfredo's shoulders, the wisps of gentle green magic disappearing into the air as he pulled the power back into himself. He took a moment to examine the wound, though now he guessed they were less wounds and definitely more scars. The four wounds had healed over into dark, ropy scar tissue, which stood out even against the deep tan of the other man's skin.

Honestly, Caleb wasn't surprised, just disappointed he hadn't been able to do more. When he'd been called to the scene Alfredo had basically been flayed open, flesh and tissue sundered and way too much bone showing. Considering he was even alive, let alone up and going already just two weeks later was a testament to Caleb's power and the amount of time he'd spent that first night healing him.

"Yea, they are. I'm sorry, but this is honestly the best we can probably do in this case." Alfredo's shoulders rose and fell in a silent sigh and Caleb placed his hands back on his shoulders, pushing just a little more magic into his body before he pulled it all back again for the last time.

"That's all I can do. You're cleared for action." 

As Caleb gathered his bag and left Alfredo's room at last, he couldn't help but think he looked more like a man who'd been given a death sentence than anything else.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, Alfredo woke with the sun and pulled on black slacks and a pressed white button down like it was armor. His gut roiled with nerves but instead of tossing up his dinner like he wanted to, he spent fifteen minutes staring in a mirror and psyching himself up for his first day working with- no, for- the crew.

Over the last few days he'd been shadowing Jack, watching her work with various crew and B-Team members as well as endless low-level crew members as they worked on getting Alfredo geared up. The fact that he was getting gear wasn't too surprising, after all he couldn't be expected to do his work with just himself or nothing else, but the sheer amount and the quality of gear was something even Source Fed would have struggled to outfit him with.

Military grade Kevlar, black and sleek that went under his shirt and felt surprisingly weightless and a sleek new pistol with plenty of ammo and a leather shoulder holster. A brand new smart phone with all the bells and whistles and two sets of keys, one to a glossy black town car and the other set to a hefty looking black SUV. He'd also been provided with a sleek case with a lock on it and a messenger bag. Jack had informed him that a lot of his work would be driving everyone back and forth or delivering orders to outposts and team leaders.

Hand of the Kingpin, Jeremy had jokingly called him and before Alfredo could protest the title Geoff had smiled and agreed, putting Alfredo off his dinner. That had to be a joke, right? No one in their right mind would put that much responsibility on someone who was working for them to repay a debt. Or maybe that's just how they operated? Honestly Alfredo couldn't tell. FAHC, the entire Rooster Syndicate for that matter, were known as wild cards in the criminal world. They did things their way and it worked for them, had let them climb up to the very top

Taking another fortifying breath he left his room and wandered into the thankfully empty kitchen. He whipped up a quick breakfast and sat at the island, awaiting Ryan, his immediate superior for the first few days. He didn't have to wait long as the skull faced man soon joined him, indulging in a diet coke before motioning Alfredo to follow him out the door, and into his new life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The weeks settle into a kind of easy rhythm, which is both relaxing and only a little unsettling. Working for FAHC is a lot of the same things, honestly, and that makes it easier to settle in but the fact he settles in at all unnerves him, considering he'd been ready to fight tooth and nail for every scrap of comfort. He can't remember the last time he settled in to anywhere since way back, before his first foster home, and certainly not after his second one.

It's a lot of driving the Gents to pickups and sitting in the car with his pistol in his lap and one hand on the wheel, ready to peel out at a single command. It's picking up Jeremy from random street corners, the smaller man covered from head to toe in blood, usually not his own and taking him back to the penthouse. It's standing behind Gavin at deals and meetings, attempting to broadcast menacing and probably only reaching brooding but Gavin cups his face and coos praise at him after every single one anyway, all gleaming gold and soft smiles in the face of Alfredo's discomfort. 

It was easy, steady, and Alfredo sunk into it, willingly lost himself in it. Eventually he was able to ignore the jingle of the tag whenever he moved his wrist,was able to stand being within three feet of the group during "mandatory" movie nights, could handle Gavin's touches and Michael's jokes and the contemplative and penetrating stares of Ryan and Jeremy. Best of a bad situation, he consoled himself. Perhaps he was being stubborn, refusing to get comfortable, but no one in thier right mind would blame him for that, only the crew seemed frustrated by his recalcitrant behavior.

Now, it was almost a month later, and he was siting at the table, sat between Jeremy and Jack, which had become his usual spot at both the dinner and planning tables. They were in the middle of heist prep but a pre-heist dinner was apparently tradition. This would be the first heist since Alfredo's inclusion in the crew and, as he'd been told, he had almost no part of it outside of helping move equipment.

"Alfredo." Trevor's voice brought him out of his thoughts and he turned his attention to the other man, attentive. Trevor still gave him the creeps. He didn't like him and luckily he almost never worked with him. "Tomorrow you'll be remaining here. You have free run of this floor and the gym floor. Don't leave." There was the unmistakable ring of a command there and Alfredo bristled a little bit. He didn't need to be commanded like some disobedient mutt.

Biting down his scathing remark and keeping his face placid, he chimed a quiet affirmative and dug into his steak with slightly more aggression than the piece of meat probably warranted. 

He missed Trevor's frown and Ryan and Jeremy sharing half smiles of amusement.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next day, the crew was gone with the sun and for the first time in over a month, Alfredo was alone. Completely alone. No crew, no B-Team. Him and an empty penthouse. He lay in bed for a while, savoring the silence the came with the lack of bodies. Usually by now Michael and Gavin could be heard squabbling or the quiet rumble of Geoff, Jack and Ryan conversing in the kitchen would reach him. Now though there was only the soft hum of the air conditioner.

Eventually he pulled himself out of his bed and forwent his usual shower, instead opting to pad to the kitchen in sweatpants and a tank top, helping himself to toaster waffles and the quiet drone of some crime drama or another. He passed an hour that way when a thought occurred to him. He could swim. With no one in the house, there was no one to see the scars on his back while he swam and he wouldn't have to wear a shirt or deal with the Lads' teasing when he swam in full clothes.

An hour later, as he was drifting contentedly in the pool, he couldn't help but ponder on the crew in some detail. Each person presented a kind of puzzle that, as someone who was on the outside of the group but still in such close proximity, he had an interesting view in an attempt o put that puzzle together

Jack and Geoff were magicless, but they were the first and oldest. Geoff had worked in the very highest echelons of the Rooster Syndicate where he'd found Jack and the rest fell in to place soon after that. Geoff, restless and disinterested with the happenings of the Syndicate on the east coast had struck out west with thier blessing and started chipping away at the foundation of Los Santos.

Gavin had come to them next. His introduction was his attempt to hack into the crew's database for fun. Geoff was intrigued by his skill and charmed by his attitude and offered him a job and Gavin hadn't hesitated. Gavin had a magic that reminded Alfredo of the deepest dark of a cave, vaguely threatening but also welcoming, speaking of safety. He was bright like the gold that he wore like armor and frenetic, like lightning, and smarter than people would give him credit for. He could smooth talk his way around, over or through a person with minimal effort.

Ryan was next, a mercenary for hire turned crew member. Alfredo knew his magic had something to do with blood, but beyond that he was unsure. Ryan carried about him the constant scent of leather, copper and warm steel, but out of costume he looked so unassuming as to be mistaken for a civilian. He was quiet and methodical, liked watching the world around him and, disturbingly, he seemed to have pinned something in Alfredo.

Lindsay and Michael came together in an explosion of fire, fangs and fur. They'd rolled into the town and into the crew seamlessly. Together so long they move like shadows of each others, flexing and existing effortlessly in each others' spaces and in the space of others around them. Give Michael a weapon or explosive and he was happy and destructive, all shock and awe, and Lindsay had a knack for commanding and leading the rank and file that saw her commanding B-Team in all her glory.

Second to last came Trevor. The less said about Trevor the better. His magic was like ice, his personality a flashpoint and oh-so confusing to Alfredo. It seemed like he missed most normal queues for dealing with humans, Alfredo especially. Why Geoff had chosen him to train up to take over for them he would never understand.

Last had come Jeremy. Jeremy was an enigma. He seemed easy and personable, playful and yet seriously minded. All too happy to participate in some stupid bet or prank but able to flip the switch in a moment's notice. And yet Alfredo couldn't help but get a feeling of danger from the man. His magic was heavy and gritty, and he seemed to carry with him some great potential for violence. More than once, late on night driving him home he'd sworn he'd seen the other man's eyes flash golden orange in the gloom. Alfredo liked Jeremy best. He respected his boundaries but still made an effort to pull Alfredo in.

Whatever had brought them all together, the pride bond they all shared now was obvious. The penthouse levels, for how expensive and modern they were had personal affects and art and the like scattered all over. The cupboards were filled odds and ends. Everyone had their own shelves, filled with food and treats. (Alfredo had been given his own shelf, though it remained stubbornly empty.)

The crew's continued efforts to include him were really, really starting to grate on him. At this point, considering how stubborn they'd been about the whole thing, Alfredo was almost certain they weren't' doing it as a joke. They really were just trying to include him, almost like they couldn't help it. A new person in thier space but not a part of their bond probably rubbed them the wrong way. 

They included him in meals, in movies and video games. Jack brought him home snacks and they encouraged him to leave his things around so there were traces of himself around the penthouse levels and on one very special occasion Gavin had brought him home a tiny cactus in a UK flag pot. Just the other night Michael had been all too pleased to announce to group that Alfredo's scent had settled into his beanbag and blanket in the movie room. Alfredo had snuck down later with a bottle of scent eliminator. Michael's face of annoyance and his pissy slamming about at breakfast the next day had been a small personal victory.

Why couldn't they just let him do his job and pay off his debt? He didn't _want_ to be part of their pride bond. He didn't want to leave a mark on a penthouse he wouldn't be at for long. Sometimes he almost wondered if he wouldn't have been better off bleeding out in that alley or having Caleb let him die in the clinic. It's not like Alfredo had anyone waiting around for him. It would have been a mercy, he figured. But he hadn't. He was alive, scarred to ribbons but alive. So he would do his job, to the best of his abilities and then he would leave. Some job, somewhere down the road, would kill him and it would be just another foot note in the obituaries.


End file.
